Uncle John
by Jedi Buttercup
Summary: John Sheppard discovers family he never knew he had. Atlantis will never be the same.
1. Uncle John

**Title**: Uncle John

**Author**: Jedi Buttercup

**Rating**: K+

**Category**: B:tVS, Stargate: Atlantis

**Summary**: John Sheppard finds a letter waiting for him on Earth. 500 words.

**Disclaimer**: The words are mine; the worlds are not. I claim nothing but the plot.

**Spoilers**: B:tVS post-"Chosen"; SG-A between "The Seige, Part III" (2.1) and "Intruder" (2.2)

**Feedback**: It's the coin of the realm.

**Notes**: Thirteenth entry for the August Fic-A-Day challenge.

* * *

One of the greatest things about being contact with Earth again, for most of the inhabitants of Atlantis, was the reinstated postal service. If the soldiers and scientists who inhabited the Ancient city couldn't have their loved ones with them, at least they could keep up on the (non-classified) details of each other's lives.

Newly minted Lt. Col. John Sheppard was the exception to that rule. He'd cut ties with his disapproving family a long time ago, and virtually all of them had ended up preceding him to the grave despite his despised military lifestyle. He hadn't actually wished them ill, but some selfish part of him couldn't help but feel a little justified anyway; they'd been pretty hurtful to him over the years, especially when he'd acquired the black mark on his record for disobeying orders to save his men.

At least his older sister hadn't been involved in that mess. She'd looked strangely thoughtful the last time he'd talked to her, just a couple of weeks before her lawyer had contacted him to tell him she'd died of an aneurysm. Not exactly welcoming, but more... evaluating... as though she were weighing what she could observe of him and not quite coming up with the bad-seed image she'd always seen before.

He'd avoided her funeral, and tried to put her out of his mind afterward. Joyce Summers, nee Sheppard, had been a formidable woman, a mildly gifted artist, and a successful gallery owner; he could respect her in an abstract way, but any reconciliation she might have been willing to attempt had died when she did, and he felt no obligation to weep at the tragedy of her fate.

He'd never even considered that she might have had children.

When General O'Neill handed him the envelope with the name "Buffy Summers" written above the return address, he'd stared dumb-founded at it for several seconds before opening it. Why hadn't Joyce ever told him she'd had a daughter? What had she been thinking, naming the girl Buffy? How had the girl managed to track him to Colorado? And most of all, why now?

The letter itself turned out to be one of those stiffly awkward "Just discovered I still had a living relative, would you like to meet me?" things, and at first he almost felt inclined to ignore it. But the more he thought on it over the weeks before the Daedalus' departure, the more he thought he might like to get to know her after all.

It would be nice to have someone of his own to exchange letters and videos with. A little less lonely. And heck, after months of keeping company with Rodney even a college-aged girl's work and wardrobe woes would make him feel nostalgic, he was sure.

He put in the paperwork for a day-trip off base and wrote her a quick note back. He felt a little weird signing it "Uncle John," but he was sure he'd get used to it with practice.

(fin)


	2. First Meeting

**Title**: First Meeting

**Author**: Jedi Buttercup

**Rating**: K+

**Category**: B:tVS, Stargate: Atlantis

**Summary**: Buffy Summers and John Sheppard meet face-to-face. 600 words.

**Disclaimer**: The words are mine; the worlds are not. I claim nothing but the plot.

**Spoilers**: B:tVS post-"Chosen"; SG-A between "The Seige, Part III" (2.1) and "Intruder" (2.2)

**Feedback**: It's the coin of the realm.

**Notes**: Seventeenth entry for the August Fic-A-Day challenge. Directly follows "Uncle John".

* * *

Buffy fidgeted restlessly in the wire-frame chair, wishing she'd chosen somewhere else to meet. A mall? How cliché was that? And with the crowds, there was no way she'd spot him coming before he was almost on top of her.

She glanced across the food court at Willow and Kennedy, who'd insisted on coming along in case she needed backup, and Dawn, who looked nearly as nervous as she did. Buffy had deliberately left all mention of her sister out of her letter, just in case this whole long-lost relative thing turned out to be an elaborate set-up, but if he passed inspection she intended to introduce him to Dawn, too.

If she had her dates right from the letters she'd found in her mom's strongbox in L.A., and provided he was for real, John Sheppard had been in high school when she was born. Her mother had been several years older and already estranged from their parents; they'd hated Hank and thought Joyce was going to ruin her life and waste her artistic talent being chained to a home and hearth. Buffy could just imagine what they'd have said if they'd been told of her existence; she'd never met them, but the amount of vitriol they'd poured onto stationery and actually sent through the mail had more than convinced her that she hadn't missed out on anything. Even if they hadn't been far wrong about Hank in the end.

All of which explained why Uncle John hadn't known he was an uncle to begin with. And with her parents still writing to tell Joyce about all the rebellious, criminal behavior her little brother had displayed, combined with his immediate escape to a military college after graduation in defiance of the family's traditionally pacifistic and liberal leanings, it made sense that Buffy's mom hadn't ever found a reason to correct the oversight until the approach of death had made her rethink a few more of the assumptions she'd held onto over the years.

It was a pity that Glory had kept Buffy away from L.A. between her mom's death and her own. She and Dawn really could have used a helpful family member to lean on after their dad had turned out to be a complete no-show the one time they really needed him.

Buffy sighed and shook off her introspection, determined not to be caught off guard when her uncle arrived, and reached for the Orange Julius she'd left sitting on the table. She froze mid-movement, however, when she realized she wasn't alone anymore. At some point during the last few minutes, a tall man in military clothes with short, spiky hair the color of Dawn's had appeared, standing behind the chair across from her and apparently waiting for her to notice.

"Buffy Summers?" he asked quietly, a crooked, hopeful grin on his face.

She nodded. "Guilty as charged," she said, summoning up a bright, cheerful smile to cover up her nervousness.

"John Sheppard," he replied, and stuck a hand out to be shaken. "Uncle John to you, I hope." He gave her another quick, impersonal scan with his eyes as he clasped her hand briefly, then smiled again, more widely than before. "I have to say, I didn't expect you to be quite so pretty. I'd be tempted to go find a shovel and start threatening boys with it, except that you're probably already past that stage."

Buffy felt her smile turning quickly genuine at the open warmth of his greeting. Maybe it was premature to be making judgments, but she had a good feeling about him already.

(fin)


	3. Debriefing

**Title**: Debriefing

**Author**: Jedi Buttercup

**Rating**: K+

**Category**: B:tVS, Stargate: Atlantis

**Summary**: John Sheppard discusses his nieces with his commanding officer. 1100 words.

**Disclaimer**: The words are mine; the worlds are not. I claim nothing but the plot.

**Spoilers**: B:tVS post-"Chosen"; SG-A between "The Seige, Part III" (2.1) and "Intruder" (2.2)

**Feedback**: It's the coin of the realm.

**Notes**: Nineteenth entry for the August Fic-A-Day challenge. Directly follows "Uncle John" and "First Meeting".

* * *

Lt. Colonel John Sheppard spent most of his trip back to Stargate Command deep in thought, grateful for once in his life that he wasn't the one piloting, or in this case driving.

The scheduled meeting with his niece, Buffy Summers, had gone... well, he wasn't sure he could say _better_ than expected, because he wasn't sure what he'd been expecting, but there had definitely been surplus involved. Two nieces for the price of one, and each of them pretty, intelligent, and vibrant in their own separate ways. Who would have thought? Him, with family he actually wanted to claim.

He'd broken the ice with a joke about threatening Buffy's prospective admirers with a shovel; she'd brushed that off, dazzling him with a genuine smile, then shocked him by saying, "Save the shovel for Dawnie; I'd really rather she didn't date until she's thirty, but since I probably have a snowball's chance in Hell of actually stopping her..."

All in all, the meeting had gone pretty well for as short as it was. They'd talked for a couple of hours, giving sketchy background histories, reminiscing about Joyce, sharing likes and dislikes, and exchanging contact information. John had warned them he was stationed at a remote research outpost that only linked up to download email twice a week, but they'd taken that pretty well; apparently they moved around a lot themselves and were occasionally unreachable for one reason or another. They were as vague about what they currently did as he was, which had piqued his curiosity, but he hadn't fought it; they'd have months to get to know one another better via electronic letters before he could next visit, and he knew it was unrealistic to expect them to completely trust him immediately.

Both of the girls had been cheerful and friendly with him, and seemed genuinely happy to get to know him, but they'd also held back just a little, as if putting a safe distance between them. John had gotten the feeling that they'd maybe been burned one too many times in the past by people in positions of authority, even those who were supposed to care, and were quietly waiting to see if he would be the same.

They'd even name-dropped the NID at one point, as if to gauge his reaction, and had seemed relieved when he'd given his negative opinion of the group in short, colorful words. He doubted he'd ever forget the expression Buffy had worn while Dawn explained about some covert NID branch operating out of their local university; it had reminded him of Rodney's attitude when they'd run up against Kolya again on Dagan. If he hadn't quite believed he was an uncle by that point he'd certainly been aware of it then; he'd felt a sudden urge to pound whoever had threatened his girls into the ground.

It was all a little unsettling for a guy in his thirties who'd been living the bachelor lifestyle for more than a decade, pretty much unencumbered by family or usually even close friends. What friends he made had a tendency to die on him, and postings to places like Afghanistan and Antarctica hadn't been big with the opportunities for finding someone with whom to start a family of his own. Atlantis was even worse in that respect. He was the head of the military there; he couldn't date his subordinates, none of the civilian scientists interested him, Teyla was on his team, and getting involved with Elizabeth would _not_ be a good idea. That pretty much meant Buffy and Dawn were as close to his own kids as he was likely to get in the near future. It was a sobering thought. He hardly knew them yet, but he was already worried about screwing things up.

John was still pondering what to say to the girls in his first emails later in the week, and how soon the Atlantis leadership might be allowed Earthside leave again, when the car arrived back at Cheyenne Mountain. From the look on General O'Neill's face when he'd first handed over Buffy's letter, and given the NID connection the girls had briefly touched on, he was half-expecting to be immediately debriefed on his little trip despite the fact that it had been personal and not work-related.

He wasn't wrong.

"So, uh, how'd it go?" the silver-haired general asked, ushering John into the base commander's office.

"The meeting with my niece, you mean?" John asked rhetorically, slouching back in one of the uncomfortable guest chairs. Not exactly the most respectful behavior toward a superior officer, but as Jack O'Neill had recruited him for the Atlantis project in the first place and was also well known for being a smart-ass, John wasn't too worried.

The general settled in the big chair behind the desk and narrowed his eyes thoughtfully for a minute, then sighed and scooted a file across the desktop. "Yeah, the meeting with your niece."

John wasn't surprised to see that it was a file on Buffy. He was, however, surprised at the large sections that had been blacked out of the report; there was far more information in there that he couldn't read than information he could. "I take it there's more than a little official interest in her?"

O'Neill nodded. "She's been labeled strictly hands-off for active recruiting, but the military has kept an eye on her for years; the big boys at the Pentagon would love to see her attached to a project like the SGC or Atlantis. Especially now that we know she's related to a gene carrier. If she tests positive for the Ancient gene, we'd have an automatic excuse to wheedle her into joining us. And trust me, she would definitely be an asset."

John flipped through a few pages of the file, absently noting what details were left unobscured-- expelled for burning down a gym, accused of murder, refugee of Sunnydale-- while he digested O'Neill's comment. The surge of protectiveness he'd felt earlier was bothering him again; Buffy and Dawn had led a pretty harsh life already from what he could see, and he wasn't sure he wanted even an outfit as benevolent as the SGC disturbing it any further.

John shook his head, temporizing. "Maybe after I get to know them a little better, maybe the next time I'm on leave I can talk to them, but definitely not now. They're both pretty skittish about the military."

"Both?" O'Neill raised his eyebrows inquisitively.

John smiled, feeling the conversation shifting toward less dangerous grounds. "Yeah, she has a younger sister named Dawn..."

(fin)


	4. Correspondence

**Title**: Correspondence

**Author**: Jedi Buttercup

**Rating**: T

**Category**: B:tVS, Stargate: Atlantis

**Summary**: Buffy receives an email from her uncle. 1200 words.

**Disclaimer**: The words are mine; the worlds are not. I claim nothing but the plot.

**Spoilers**: B:tVS post-"Chosen"; SG-A up through "Runner" (2.3)

**Feedback**: It's the coin of the realm.

**Notes**: Fourth in the "Uncle John" series. Also fits tth100 prompt #9: Writing.

* * *

Buffy Summers had never been what anyone would call a computer whiz. She was capable of using a word processing program to type up a report, or conducting limited research on the internet, but that was about the extent of her skills. Still, the time she spent in front of that "dread machine" every evening had rapidly become one of the best parts of her day.

Back when the Gang had all lived in the same town, there had been no need for email addresses or any other means of keeping track of each other online. Now that they were scattered over several continents, however, it had become a necessity. Even Giles had been persuaded to get an email account of his own, though half the time Andrew was the one who checked it.

Buffy heard from **Witchy-Willow** at least three times a week, vivid little messages full of anecdotes of tropical life, relationship woes, and information about new slayers she'd found that might be inappropriate for the Council's permanent files but which she figured Buffy ought to know anyway. **Arrr-Xander** wrote a little less often, but his endless supply of jokes and fascinating tales about the people and creatures he encountered in his trek through rural Africa always made her smile. When Dawn was at her university in Rome, messages from **Watchful-Umad** appeared regularly as well, mostly full of meaningless rambling but still reassuring to a protective big sister. Of all Buffy's contacts, however, **Uncle-JS** was the one whose messages she looked forward to the most.

Lt. Colonel John Sheppard was a recent addition to her life, a younger brother of her Mom's that she hadn't known about until she'd found Joyce Summers' strongbox in L.A. several months ago. Despite their late start, however, she often felt as though she'd known him for years. Part of that was probably how much Dawn apparently took after the Sheppards in looks; she'd have known Uncle John for family even if she hadn't already known of their relationship when she met him. Part of it was his sense of humor, too, which reminded her of a more adult Xander. But the largest part of the connection she felt with him, oddly enough, was because of his job. When he spoke of the men and women he commanded, looked after, and/or protected, she was sharply reminded of her time playing General in Sunnydale and of her current job as Training Manager for most of the newly activated Slayers worldwide.

He even had his own Scooby Gang backing him up. Though of course he didn't call them that; they were his 'team'. His messages were always full of news about them, funny non-classified things they'd done or said that he thought she and Dawn might get a kick out of.

There was the brilliant Dr. Rodney McKay, who seemed to fill a Willow-ish role except for the lack of magic and a much more snarky disposition. Buffy was already plotting a way to have them meet the next time her Uncle John and his friends were back in the States. Not that she'd understand a word of what Willow and Rodney had to say to each other, but it would be fun to watch. He and John seemed to be at verbal odds a lot of the time, but they also trusted each other as much as she and Wills had in the early days; the story her uncle had told her about throwing him off a balcony to test a piece of technology he'd been working on had been very funny, but had also been a good illustration of the connection between them.

Then there was Teyla Emmagan, a local woman who stayed at the installation as a sort of native guide and liaison. In every respect except the command of the team, she seemed to fit Buffy's role in their group; John had gleefully reported that she could kick his ass six ways to Sunday and had long made it her business to defy the local baddies. There didn't seem to be any romance brewing between the two of them, but he respected her a great deal, and it carried over into the way he talked about her.

John's relationship with the base's leading scientist and diplomat, on the other hand, came across as both more familiar and more fraught with tension. He and this Elizabeth Weir seemed to butt heads a lot on issues of security, but the way he spoke about her in all other respects came across as way too warm for a mere working relationship. In lieu of any romantic drama of her own, Buffy was getting a kick out of projecting it into her uncle's life.

There were others, too, that he mentioned less often, like the base's Scottish doctor and the funny little scientist that cursed in Czech. And now it looked like there was going to be another member of their little group: a guy named Ronon they'd apparently rescued from a group of terrorists.

_"Dear Buffy,"_ he wrote,

_"I told Rodney what you said about the computer virus that tried to date your friend. He feels a little better now about not being able to deactivate the one on our transport sooner; we might have nearly lost a lot of people to malfunctions, but at least he wasn't embarrassed romantically. (Personally, though, I think he was a little jealous; he hasn't been on a date in well over a year, and even a virtual woman is starting to sound good to him about now)._

_"I know what you mean about your friend Faith. I've got a friend right now who's gone a little nuts since some of the local terrorists caught him and got him hooked a nasty drug. He ran away from base, got a real God complex; he's determined to get rid of all the bad guys on his own, but he won't stop using and he won't take advice from any of us or even come home. I just hope he ends up back with us in the end, like Faith with you guys, before something else terrible happens to him._

_"We ran into him the other day, on a patrol away from base. He'd been hunting those terrorists; McKay got a chance to talk to him a little, but being Rodney, he just made things worse. In the end, Ford ran off again._

_"We did manage to rescue someone else, though. Big guy named Ronon Dex. He's a man of few words, but he's tougher than Teyla, has more military experience than half the guys on this base, and possesses the ability to intimidate Rodney into silence. I'm thinking I may have to get him to stick around awhile._

_"Anyway, I'd better get back to my official reports. I hope things are going good for you, wherever you are this week. It sounds like Dawn's doing well in her studies, but you haven't said much about the correspondence course you were taking. College not as fun as you remember it being?_

_"Talk to you later,_

_"Love, Uncle John."_

Buffy smiled, hit REPLY, and began typing a message of her own.

(fin)


	5. Friend Points

**Title**: Friend Points 

**Author**: Jedi Buttercup

**Rating**: T

**Disclaimer**: The words are mine; the worlds are not. I claim nothing but the plot.

**Summary**: B:tVS, Stargate: Atlantis. John receives another email from Buffy, and shares it with a friend. 900 words.

**Spoilers**: B:tVS post-"Chosen"; SG-A up through "Duet" (2.4)

**Notes**: Fifth in the "Uncle John" series. Also fits tth100 prompt #31: Friends.

* * *

"Dear Uncle John," he read aloud, slouching back against one of the counters in Rodney's lab.

Rodney groaned and looked up from his laptop, a long-suffering expression on his face. "You _told_ her, didn't you?" he complained. "That's what this is, isn't it? It isn't enough for you to mock me in person, you have to get your newfound niece to do it long-distance, too."

John grinned at him. "Oh come on, Rodney. Did you really expect me _not_ to tell her, after you made me add that bit in the last letter about you _not_ being jealous about her friend's robot dating experience?"

Rodney's face reddened a little. "I think you're forgetting who has administrative access to the entire Atlantis network," he said, then turned back to his laptop, jabbing away irritably at the keys. "One of these days I'm going to harvest her email for myself and start filling her in on all of _your_ embarrassing moments over the last couple of years. Even with the classified parts stripped out, I'm sure she'd find the tale of Chaya to be more than a little entertaining, don't you think?"

John rolled his eyes at the comment and cleared his throat. "I'm glad to hear your new friend Ronon is settling in," he said pointedly, reading from the email he'd printed out for his correspondence file. "I remember when my friend Anya first came to Sunnydale; she was from a very different culture, and the whole California teenager thing was pretty much outside her experience. It wasn't easy for her, and there were lots of things we disagreed about, but in the end, she turned out to be one of the best people I ever knew."

He glanced up at Rodney again, suppressing a chuckle as he noticed the tension going out of the scientist's shoulders. No, John hadn't forgotten to tell Buffy about the dating thing after all; he just hadn't got to that part of the letter yet.

"Actually," he continued, grinning more widely, "she's the one that actually got my friend Xander to settle down for awhile, move beyond the land of closet-groping and one night stands that tried to strangle him afterwards. He could probably share dating stories with your friend Rodney that would make his toes curl. An embarrassing dinner date and kissing the wrong person while under outside influence? Shudderworthy, but not really of the big."

Rodney made a strangled sound and shot a glare at John that promised future vengeance. Behind him, John could see Zelenka stifling laughter; the rest of the scientists had left hours ago, doing sensible things like eating dinner or going to the rec room, or there probably would have been additional comments from the peanut gallery. Not that John would have read the letter if they'd all still been there; he wasn't _completely_ suicidal.

"But if he ever starts dating a girl whose last boyfriend disappeared under mysterious circumstances, followed by her dog getting eaten by a giant worm, I'd suggest a twenty-four hour guard. Some days, if it weren't for bad luck... well, you know what they say."

"Ha, ha, very funny," Rodney interjected, over Zelenka's amused mutterings in Czech. "If you're quite finished, I'm actually in the middle of a project here, so if you'd like to continue to have hot water in your quarters...?"

John gave him a mock hurt expression. "Don't you want to hear the rest of the letter, Rodney?"

The glare he received in return more than answered that question, but he persevered anyway. "By the way, tell him thanks for all that physics stuff you asked him for me. I got major best friend points for that; Willow was under a real time-crunch on that project, and she was having trouble finding anyone who knew enough about wormholes and time dilation to answer her questions."

"Well, at least _someone_ appreciates my genius," Rodney grumbled, but the pinched lines around his eyes had faded a little.

There were only a few paragraphs left, so John finished them in a rush. "I'll be in Rome for the next few months, taking classes in person with my sister, so I should be able to answer my email more often. And maybe I'll actually be able to finish up my psychology degree. I'll still be working with the same security company after hours and on the weekends, but I'm tired of being away from Dawn all the time. Speaking of. Do you think you could send me some pictures next time you get a chance? I miss my uncle, too. Love, Buffy."

Rodney snorted. "On second thought," he said, "maybe you should give her email address to Heightmeyer. She could probably use another psychologist in her department, and then I could get all my second-hand mocking done in person instead of long-distance."

John folded up his letter with a smile. "Aw, Rodney," he said, "I didn't know you cared."

"Limited time offer," Rodney replied with a sniff. "I'm sure it's just the hypoglycemia talking, anyway. I don't suppose you have any chocolate power bars tucked away in your pockets?"

"Why don't you just come to dinner?" John shook his head. "The equations will still be here when you get back, and I hear they're serving that near-deer casserole you like."

"Really?" Rodney perked up.

"Really," John said, and gestured toward the lab door. "After you."

--


	6. Dangerous Secrets

**Title**: Dangerous Secrets 

**Author**: Jedi Buttercup

**Rating**: T

**Disclaimer**: The words are mine; the worlds are not. I claim nothing but the plot.

**Summary**: B:tVS, Stargate: Atlantis. Buffy receives an email from a new correspondent. 1100 words.

**Spoilers**: B:tVS post-"Chosen"; SG-A post "Trinity" (2.6)

**Notes**: Sixth in the "Uncle John" series. Less humor this chapter, but more advancing of plot.

* * *

Buffy stared at her email window in puzzlement for a moment, wondering who on earth **Dr-MmmKay** might be. If it hadn't been for the subject line-- "Re: Wormholes and Time Dilation"-- she might have been tempted to delete the newest message without reading it. Willow had always told her not to open anything from an address she didn't recognize, as it might contain a virus that could crash her computer. The subject suggested it might have something to do with the problem the Cleveland crew had faced a couple weeks ago, though, something a malicious emailer surely couldn't have known about.

Thinking about the latest demonic attempt to access the Hellmouth-- by more creative means than usual, this time-- reminded her of the reason they'd been able to solve it, and she abruptly realized who her correspondent had to be. Her uncle's best friend, the scientist on his team at whatever base they were stationed at, was named Rodney McKay; this had to be him. He knew all about the kind of theoretical physics Willow had been forced to dabble in to take care of the minor apocalypse; Buffy had passed him a few "hypothetical questions, just for research" in one of her emails to Uncle John, and Rodney's answers, delayed though they'd been by the twice-weekly upload limitation at their base, had been invaluable to containing the problem.

She clicked on the link, curious as to what he might have to say, and smiled at his salutation.

"_Hi, I'm Dr. Rodney McKay, chief scientist at the base where your uncle, Colonel Sheppard, is stationed, though I'm sure you know that already. He made sure I heard all about the romantic advice you passed on in your last letter; I'll have you know, I have yet to date a woman that's actually tried to kill me. I'm pretty sure Sheppard already has that particular market cornered out here. But I didn't email you to discuss your uncle's love life._

"_First of all, I'm writing to say you're welcome. I was glad to be of help, though I have difficulty imagining what kind of research a psychology student would be doing that would lead to an urgent need for that kind of data. And secondly, if you have any more questions along those lines, please email them to me directly rather than relying them through the Colonel. We aren't exactly on social terms at the moment, as you may have heard._

"_By the way, whatever he's told you about what happened, I honestly didn't mean for things to turn out the way they did. I never would have asked him to trust me if I hadn't been positive I could do what I said I would, and my failure caught both of us off guard._

"_Anyway, I wish you luck with your project. Could you remind me what topic you were researching? I'm sure I could be a lot more helpful to you than the most of the textbooks on the subject; many of them are years out of date and hideously inaccurate._

"_Sincerely, Dr. Rodney McKay_."

Buffy's smile had faded by the time she finished the message. Her first reaction had been amusement; her uncle really wasn't kidding when he said Rodney had been born without a verbal filter. His style of blunt commentary made her nostalgic for Anya's brute-force approach to conversation. Her second reaction had been concern; she'd wondered just what he could have done that would upset her uncle that much. For him to have invoked the trust card and for it to have _failed_ meant something vitally important must have been going down. From what she'd seen of her uncle, he wasn't the type to flip out over anything minor.

But thirdly-- and probably most importantly-- she'd noticed that Rodney had finished off the letter not with the reference to the problem between him and John, something she would have expected from an ego-driven scientist trying to get on the good side of the niece of the man he'd pissed off, but with another reference to the questions he'd answered for her second-hand, weeks ago. To Buffy, after years of evil-plan-foiling and psychology classes besides, that suggested the friendlier parts of his email were actually only in there as filler, inserted to justify the fact that he was emailing her at all and to distract her from the real issue at hand.

If she'd still had any doubts that her uncle was involved in something highly classified, this message would have convinced her. Dr. McKay's studiously off-handed questions weren't the comments of a genuinely curious, or helpful, scientist; they were the paranoia of a government employee sitting on a dangerous secret. She'd known something was off about her uncle's job when they'd met, but she'd had secrets of her own to cover up; after they'd danced carefully around several different topics of conversation they'd kind of come to an unspoken understanding that their fledgling family relationship was more important than prying into details neither side was ready to discuss.

She just hoped the whatever-it-was that Lt. Colonel John Sheppard was guarding wasn't anything like the "wormhole weapon" on that sci-fi show Andrew had gotten Dawn addicted to. Buffy had been forced to watch a few episodes the last time the geeky Watcher-wannabe had stopped by, and some of the details had stuck in her brain. Like the fact that the American military guy on the show also had the first name John. That had to be a coincidence, though, right?

She closed the email, feeling distinctly unsettled, and pondered whether she should ask Willow to do a detailed hack into her uncle's files and those of his teammates. The last time the government had sat on something really big, a demon/human/machine hybrid had nearly taken over Sunnydale as its first stop in ruling the world. What were the odds that world-threatening circumstances weren't involved in whatever was going on now?

Best not to take chances. Buffy dashed off a quick email to **Witchy-Willow**, then, after some thought, another to **Captain-Finn**. Her old boyfriend had been assigned to a new classified project after Sam's condition had prompted them to resign from their roaming demon-hunting team. Little Graham Finn's birth announcement had come from Colorado-- and, if Buffy remembered right, that was where her uncle had been staying when her letter had finally caught up to him.

Riley probably wouldn't be able to tell her much, but at least she'd be able to get an initial idea of how bad things were, based on what he _didn't_ say.

--


	7. Theoretically Speaking

**Title**: Theoretically Speaking

**Author**: Jedi Buttercup

**Rating**: T

**Category**: B:tVS, Stargate: Atlantis

**Summary**: In the months since they'd begun corresponding, John's nieces had never completely missed a check-in. 2000 words.

**Disclaimer**: The words are mine; the worlds are not. I claim nothing but the plot.

**Spoilers**: B:tVS post-"Chosen"; SG-A post "Conversion" (2.8)

**Notes**: Seventh in the "Uncle John" series. Ooo, look, more plot advancement! Back to Buffy next chapter.

* * *

John scratched absent-mindedly at the scaly patch on his arm as he waited for the latest data burst from Earth to finish downloading. It had been several days since he'd last been able to check his email; they hadn't exactly allowed him a computer while he'd been bug-ified.

When it had finished, he sifted quickly through the messages from Command, notes from the few friendly acquaintances he had in the armed services back on Earth, and the flood of spam that always managed to get past Atlantis' network defenses, looking for inventively titled correspondence from **WatchfulUmad** or **ScytheBearer**. They had yet to explain what their usernames stood for, but he had a feeling the stories would be worth waiting for when they finally did.

He reached the end of the list without finding a single message from either of them and a knot of dismay slowly settled in his gut. In the months since they'd begun corresponding, his nieces had never completely missed a check-in; Buffy had occasionally skipped one due to the demands of her job, and Dawn occasionally had a paper or party or something that delayed her replies, but they'd never both been busy at the same time and never more than once in a row. This time, several uplinks had passed without so much as a peep. _Something_ had to have gone wrong.

John was in the middle of composing a careful, concerned query to go out in the next uplink when the door to his office slid open and Rodney shuffled inside. Rodney's appearing there was a strange enough occurrence to begin with, never mind his unusually hesitant attitude, that John stopped typing immediately instead of making his teammate wait until he'd finished the email. Usually John was the one hunting Rodney down in the labs, the mess, or the rec room-- or at least that was the way it had been before the Arcturus disaster. Since then, there hadn't been a lot of time to socialize even if he'd been in the mood for it, what with his having nearly been turned into a life-sucking Wraith-bug-thing and all.

"What can I do for you, Dr. McKay?" he drawled, closing his laptop and squaring his posture into something a little more appropriate for the military leader of Atlantis. There was always the possibility that Rodney was here in an official capacity due to some kind of problem between the scientists and the Marines. There hadn't been any really serious trouble between the two segments of the city's population since the new wave of personnel had finished settling, but living in a confined space on the front lines of a protracted, apparently unwinnable war with a limited and unvarying social circle could sometimes have strange delayed effects on people.

Rodney shuffled his feet a little and crossed his arms in front of him. "Uh, nothing all that important," he said-- and was that a hint of nervousness in his voice? "I was just wondering, uh, if your niece had said anything to you-- I know you haven't had a chance to check your email before today, but--"

"But _what_?" John interrupted, the dismayed feeling in his gut slowly shifting toward anger. He remembered Rodney threatening to find out what Buffy's email address was; if it was his fault she and Dawn hadn't written him... "What did you say to her?"

"Nothing!" Rodney objected, throwing up his hands. "Why, was she upset or something? All I did was tell her she was welcome for the help!"

"McKay," John growled, knowing there was no way that was all there was to it.

"No, I swear!" Rodney said again, and pulled a wrinkled print-out from one of his pockets. "Here, I brought a copy for you, just in case."

John took the paper from him and scanned the email over, brows knotted in a frown as he tried to pick out why such an apparently innocuous, if somewhat rude, message should have upset his nieces enough to stop writing. He glanced up in irritation at the paragraph about Arcturus-- seriously, what was Rodney doing whining about it when he knew damn well John couldn't have actually told Buffy the scope of how badly Rodney had screwed up?-- then paused thoughtfully as he read, and re-read, the last few sentences.

"She never told me what her friend was researching, exactly," he said, raising his eyebrows at Rodney. "And I'm sure she knows that-- this 'remind me' business strikes even _me_ as fishy. Why did you want to know?"

Rodney's hesitance melted away as his expression took on determined lines. "We were so busy at the time, I didn't really put it together, but the more I thought about it afterward the more it bothered me. The questions she asked-- individually, they're unimportant, the kind of thing a college student studying advanced physics might theoretically ask. But taken together?" He paused expectantly, then snorted when John just raised his eyebrows at him. "Stargates, Colonel. She's researching _Stargates_. Has to be, unless there's some other kind of long-distance wormhole-enabled travel portal out there. To be specific, she was asking about wormholes connecting two points in space-time over vast distances, and the effects that might occur if one end was anchored somewhere with vastly different physical conditions. Like, say, the vicinity of a black hole."

John hadn't got that from her questions at all, but then again, he hadn't been paying much attention to the details and he trusted Rodney to know what he was talking about with the science stuff. Well, at least when Atlantis' chief scientist wasn't in pursuit of some insane scientific Grail. "Like what happened that once in Colorado," he offered, vaguely remembering a reference from the SGC reports he'd had to cram before 'gating to Atlantis. "Days were passing outside the mountain--"

"But only minutes on the inside," Rodney completed the sentence, nodding vigorously. "And it just so happens, when I last heard from Samantha Carter she said there was another event like it a month ago in _Cleveland_ of all places. Conveniently enough, however, no one remembered _anything_ about it afterward. The only reason the SGC knew something had gone down was that one of their technicians was on leave with his family there, and had a rather confusing phone conversation with someone back on base while it was happening. When Carter looked into it, she found evidence suggesting there'd been a brief temporal slow-down in the city relative to the rest of Earth, but she's still completely baffled as to how it happened and why no-one noticed."

"So you got suspicious," John concluded, grimly. "About my _niece_. And you didn't _tell me_."

Rodney's chin went up defensively. "To be fair, I didn't tell _anyone_," he said. "I was hoping Ms. Summers had some kind of innocuous explanation for it, so I wouldn't have to have this conversation with you."

John sighed and lowered his head into his hands, rubbing at his temples. "But she didn't explain," he said. "Instead, she stopped writing-- and got Dawn to stop, too." He could feel a headache beginning behind his eyes; he'd _known_ they were too good to be true, but they'd filled a hole in his world he hadn't even realized was there. Family he could be proud of knowing, who were excited about knowing _him_, too.

Rodney cleared his throat. "Are you even sure they're really your nieces, and not, you know--"

John lifted his head up again, glaring at him. Images of Dawn with her Sheppard height and coloring and Buffy beaming at him with Joyce's smile flashed through his mind, re-centering him a little. No, whatever else was going on, they were still _his_ and deserved the benefit of the doubt.

"Who else would they be, Rodney?" he asked, irritably. "Okay, so maybe there's something else going on, but who would set up something that elaborate just for a few random questions they could have got answers to from someone back on Earth? Like, say, the NID or your friend Carter?"

"I don't know," Rodney replied, throwing up his hands. "It was just a thought. God forbid I have any concerns about the security of the project, or, you know, your _personal happiness_."

John sighed, glancing back down at his laptop as he tried to work out what to do next. It wasn't like he'd have a chance at getting back to Earth anytime soon, but maybe he could get in touch with General O'Neill? He remembered the blacked-out file he'd been handed with Buffy's name on it and the man's carefully-hidden excitement at the idea of hooking her into the program. That kind of enthusiasm suggested that whatever she was involved in, it was something the SGC-- or at least the head honcho of Homeworld Security-- knew about and maybe even approved of. This was the US military, after all; the left hand _never_ knew what the right hand was doing. If he shared Rodney's concerns with O'Neill, maybe the General would share more information, or at least give him some idea what to say to Buffy.

Cheered by that train of thought, he nodded and opened the laptop back up. "I'll send her another email," he said. "Ask her how she's doing, and so on; I'm sure it didn't help that I haven't said anything since you wrote her that. And I'll get in touch with Command. We'll get to the bottom of this."

"Good," Rodney said, crossing his arms again and retreating back into that defensive persona he'd adopted around John of late. "Well, then. I have to get back to the lab--"

John rolled his eyes. He really was going to make Rodney work for it before he'd let the man pull the trust card again, but he couldn't let this awkwardness keep drowning their off-mission conversations. "Speaking of science," he said, interrupting him, holding up the wrinkled email hardcopy. "'Hideously inaccurate', Rodney? Ego, much?"

The light of battle flared in Rodney's eyes again as he snatched the page back. "It's true," he said, fiercely. "And I'm not the only scientist in the Stargate program who feels that way. You remember Dr. Jackson?"

John nodded; he hadn't been in Antarctica long enough to really get to know the archaeologist, but he'd met him, and of course he'd heard about SG-1. "Yeah, mild mannered guy with glasses, knows a lot about languages?" he said vaguely, hoping to provoke Rodney further.

Rodney snorted in haughty amusement. "You wouldn't call him 'mild mannered' if you'd ever heard him frothing at the mouth about the state of scholarship in his field. I've heard he's taken to writing his own textbooks and giving them out to every new member of his staff to give them a head start on all the re-learning they'll have to do just to be qualified to handle the artefacts sitting on the shelves in his office, much less the things they'll run into off-world. A lot of the discoveries made by SGC scientists have never made it back to the general scientific community, and it's really starting to hurt not only retention of current personnel, due to their inability to really publish anything of value, but also the program's efforts to recruit new faces."

John raised his eyebrows at that. "So what's that say about the scientists who came to Atlantis?" he asked. He'd been wondering that for awhile, actually.

Rodney shrugged. "That they're crazy?" he replied, gesticulating wildly. "Seriously, Sheppard. There's no doubt that the majority of personnel who volunteered for the Atlantis project are moderately intelligent and capable individuals, but they're also, to put it mildly, _eccentric_-- people who care more about the science than recognition, and who didn't fit into the cool-kids clubs back home."

"Really," John drawled, smirking at him. "I never would have guessed."

He tuned out Rodney's sputtered reply as he opened the email program on his laptop and began to type.

--


	8. Fishing Expeditions

**Title**: Fishing Expedition

**Author**: Jedi Buttercup

**Rating**: T

**Category**: B:tVS, Stargate: Atlantis

**Summary**: Dawn frowned as she saw a new message pop up in her inbox, addressed to her from **Uncle-JS**. 1300 words.

**Disclaimer**: The words are mine; the worlds are not. I claim nothing but the plot.

**Spoilers**: B:tVS post-"Chosen"; SG-A post "Conversion" (2.8)

**Notes**: Eighth in the "Uncle John" storyline. Moving right along.

* * *

Dawn frowned as she saw a new message pop up in her inbox, addressed to her from **Uncle-JS**. It had been a few weeks since he'd sent her any email, and she'd almost been glad about it, the way Buffy had been going off about military projects and things being too good to be true. She'd all but ordered Dawn not to email him back when he wrote again, and Dawn had not been looking forward to that-- to knowing _she'd_ be the one responsible, this time, for cutting herself off from a relationship with an adult-male-type relative she cared about.

She swallowed, then double-clicked on the message, wondering if he'd say anything about what had had Buffy in conference with Riley on the phone several times the last couple days, or why the Slayer had a ticket to fly out tomorrow to meet with some general or other in D.C. To her surprise, however, it didn't even mention the gap in contact at all, except as an aside-- "Your sister hasn't answered my last email, and I'm kind of worried about her. Is she adjusting okay to living in Rome? Moving to a foreign country is always a big change. Or is there something wrong that she's not in the mood to talk to me about?"

Dawn scowled. Not only uninformative, but also a fishing expedition. Sure, he'd seemed a nice guy so far, and when they'd met that once he'd seemed really cool, but he had to know that this was just a little stalker-y of him.

Then again, Dawn didn't have near the Daddy issues Buffy did. Maybe it was because the monks had made Dawn _after_ the whole divorce trauma, plus she'd never had to deal with the whole thing with the adult she trusted with her life with every day suddenly betraying her on her eighteenth birthday because of a bunch of rules some stuffy guys in England made up a long time ago. Up until whatever crisis had come up, the way Buffy had babbled about every email from Uncle John, you'd have thought he was the most important person on her contact list. There was a bond there that Dawn didn't have with him yet. Maybe that did give him a right to try and do an end run around Buffy's non-talkativeness through her, and expect her to respond.

Dawn thought about it a little more, then clicked REPLY and began carefully composing an equally content-free message about the current ins and outs of life as a university student in the Eternal City. Editing out all the Slayer-related references made it sound kind of awkward in places, but she was pretty sure the second half of it would basically cover what Uncle John wanted to know anyway:

"It's been kind of weird having here underfoot again, that's for sure," she wrote. "She still gets all Mom-ish on me sometimes, even though hello, not a kid anymore, and she keeps asking Andrew stupid questions about my dating habits and stuff. Like I'd bring the hot ones home to meet him, duh! And even if I did, he's pretty much the most oblivious roommate in the history of ever, except when it comes to food. I'll take his cooking over Buffy's any day.

"She's hasn't been out on the club scene as much as the last time she was here, too. You know she was in Rome for awhile after we got out of Sunnydale? She spent several months doing the security thing from our apartment, teaching martial arts to girls and stuff, and after awhile started dating this guy Marco. He was totally wrong for her, a complete skeaze, but she never listens to me about her boyfriends, and anyway, at least she was dating again.

"It had taken her months to get over losing her last boyfriend, that guy Spike I told you about who tutored me in history and literature. We were pretty much the last people out when the town collapsed, and he wasn't on the bus with us, so everyone thought he'd been killed. But then that May-- I guess it's been a year and a half ago now-- she found out he'd survived after all, and was working for another security company in L.A. She was furious, 'cause he'd never called or visited or anything, but she got on a plane and went out there like, immediately. Except by the time she arrived he'd already been killed again, this time for real, in the riots-- I don't know if you were in the States at the time, but more than a hundred people died.

"That's when she packed her bags and went 'walkabout', as Willow put it. I missed her, but we saw each other sometimes when I was on break from school, and I had Andrew here to keep me company. I'd meet Buffy places and hang out for a couple days and help out with whatever, and she seemed a little bit happier every time we saw each other. So I thought her moving back meant she was finally over it.

"I guess not, though. I caught her on the phone with Riley today-- the guy she was serious about before Spike-- and they were talking military stuff. He's stationed out in Colorado now on some top secret project or other, which Buffy doesn't like at all, so if she was actually talking to him about it she has to be really upset about something.

"So that's the sitch. She forgets sometimes, I think, that she doesn't have a monopoly on being all angsty and billowy-coat Queen-of-pain when she has a hard time dealing. But that's probably why she's been all avoid-y lately, nothing personal. (I hope. Unless there's something you said to her…?)

"She probably just doesn't want you to think of her as weak, or anything, because of all her issues-- which is a retarded way to deal, I know, but that's Buffy. All of the authority type guys she's ever known have ragged on her about her taste in boyfriends, kind of implying that she deserves whatever fallout comes her way from those relationships, and of course that's the last thing she wants to hear."

Dawn added another couple of paragraphs of babble, gave the email an innocuous close, and then scrolled back up and read it all through again, hoping she hadn't said too much and that her own fishing for information didn't stand out too badly. But he really did seem worried about Buffy, and maybe the secret military thing that had Buffy's panties in a wad wasn't really the Initiative, Mark Two. A Key could hope, right?

She hit SEND, then minimized her email window and went back to what she'd been doing before, trawling the Internet for information about this General O'Neill Buffy was supposed to be meeting. Research never had been Buffy's thing, and Riley sure hadn't been very forthcoming from what she'd told Dawn.

Top of the red-flag list in Dawn's book: the fact that up until last year he'd been working at the same facility the Finns were at now, seven years as a Colonel under a General Hammond and an eighth year generaling the place himself after Hammond was given the suspiciously-named job of Head of Homeworld Security. Then, a year later, Hammond had retired, and O'Neill had immediately been bumped up the ladder again, adding a second star to his uniform. She didn't know much about the Air Force, but that seemed like a suspiciously low time-in-rank to her.

He was definitely hiding _something_. Dawn only hoped she could figure out what before it was time for Buffy to leave.

"Where's Willow when you need her?" she muttered, and clicked through to the next site.

--


	9. Inconvenient Timing

**Title**: Inconvenient Timing 

**Author**: Jedi Buttercup

**Rating**: T

**Disclaimer**: The words are mine; the worlds are not. I claim nothing but the plot.

**Summary**: B:tVS, Stargate: Atlantis. _The threats to the expedition's existence were significant enough without adding more complications from Earth_. 1900 words.

**Spoilers**: B:tVS post-"Chosen"; SG-A "Aurora" (2.9)

**Notes**: Ninth in the "Uncle John" series. The first few lines of dialogue are taken from "Aurora", but the plot diverges thereafter; this is where the changes to the timeline become more pronounced.

* * *

Elizabeth often thought it was a pity that Colonel Caldwell had so clearly taken offense at John's promotion and continuing assignment as military leader of Atlantis; when he let down his guard and treated her as an equal and an ally, rather than a representative of the opposition, she saw glimpses of a man she would very much have liked to get to know.

This wasn't one of those moments, however. She took a deep breath as she walked beside him down the corridors of the _Daedalus_, and strove to find the words to convince him to agree with her plan to investigate the Ancient warship that had been so recently revealed by the city's reawakening systems. "Please don't force me to remind you that I do have discretionary power to utilize the _Daedalus_..."

He cut her off as they threaded their way through a crowd of ship's personnel, busily pursuing their duties. "I'm well aware of the extent of your powers, Dr. Weir," he said in a faintly derisive tone of voice, "they end at the hatch of this ship."

The fact that he hadn't even looked her in the eye as he said that grated on her nerves. Why did the man have to be so obstructive? She let loose a frustrated sigh. "Colonel, do we have to..."

The colonel did turn toward her at that, though his expression didn't change as he proceeded toward the corridor. "Relax, doctor, I happen to agree," he said, the faint up-lilt of disbelief in his tone at the end of the sentence echoing her feelings at his words. "The value of an Ancient warship in our hands instead of the Wraiths' is more than enough incentive for me," he continued, as they proceeded toward the ship's bridge.

"Good," Elizabeth began to reply, relieved. "Colonel Sheppard's team..."

"Is unfortunately going to have to wait until we get back," Caldwell said, shaking his head.

Of course, that had been too easy, she thought, gritting her teeth. "With all due respect to your crew," she said, "my team has far more experience with Ancient technology."

He glanced at her again, his mouth curving in an expression half-irritated and half-amused. "You know my people will only get that kind of experience by going on this kind of mission," he said, "but that's not what I was trying to say. The fact is, the _Daedalus_ has been recalled by Stargate Command for a priority mission; they've decided to send a group of VIPs out here to join the expedition."

And of course, there was no way for passengers to reach Atlantis from Earth other than via the _Daedalus_, any more than the Atlantis team had any other options for reaching the drifting _Aurora_. "Why now?" she objected, frustrated. "Why not on your next scheduled trip? You'll be gone for weeks!"

"There seems to be some hurry in getting the VIPs in question away from the reach of certain terrestrial organizations," Caldwell said, dryly. "The general didn't provide much in the way of details in the databurst, but we need to pick them up as soon as possible. Besides," he continued reasonably, "The ship has been there for ten thousand years. I think it can wait until we get back."

Elizabeth took a deep breath and let it out, trying not to feel stifled and patronized by his attitude. Not to mention the fact that Caldwell had heard about these VIPs before she did. "Very well then," she said. "Did he say who these VIPs are, and what they intend to do when they arrive? If there are going to be any significant changes to the city's organization, we'll need the time to prepare."

They emerged onto the bridge as she spoke; Elizabeth felt a twinge as she saw AR-1 already present, lounging around waiting as though the outcome of her conversation with Colonel Caldwell was assured. Perhaps it had been a mistake to advise them to join her up here before she actually had the colonel's agreement; she saw Caldwell's expression stiffen a little as he noticed them, and there was a slightly vicious glint in his eyes as he turned back to reply.

"Why, Dr. Weir," he said, in an innocent tone of voice. "I was given to understand that you already knew all about the VIPs. One of them _is_ Colonel Sheppard's niece, after all, and General O'Neill stated quite clearly that she and her sister have been corresponding with at least two members of your team. As a matter of fact, it was that correspondence which prompted the necessity of this visit."

Elizabeth stared at him blankly for a moment, then glanced at John. "Is this true?" she demanded of him.

John lowered the energy bar he'd been nibbling on and stared back at her, the pale, serious expression on his face reflecting the sinking feeling in the pit of her stomach. "What?" he replied, voice and body language taking on a distinctly defensive tone as he spoke. "That I've been corresponding with my nieces? Of course it's true; I just found out they _existed_ when we were back on Earth for the debriefing, and we've had a lot to catch up on."

"So why is it that I'm just now hearing about them?" she asked, furious with both Caldwell for prompting this little confrontation, and John for making it necessary.

"Because it's, I don't know, personal?" Rodney butted in, with a half-guilty glance at Sheppard, telling Elizabeth exactly who the other member of the team involved with the correspondence had been. "Just because Carson talks about his mother all the time, doesn't mean the rest of us are required to share every detail of our private lives. Have I ever mentioned _my_ niece to you? No? Didn't think so."

Elizabeth ignored his outburst, glancing at Ronon and Teyla. The two Pegasus galaxy natives didn't seem surprised at the topic of conversation; if they hadn't been involved, they'd at least been aware, and that stung even more. Had John's new family just never come up in conversation around her? Why? She'd have liked to think they were all closer than that. Regardless, Rodney's point was only valid just so far; there were other considerations involved.

Considerations she was not going to air on the bridge of Colonel Caldwell's ship; he already had ammunition enough against them. She squared her shoulders and turned away from her team to face Caldwell, her lips drawn into a stern line. "Well, then. Good luck on your trip, Colonel. We'll see you when you get back."

The others, thankfully, took their cue from that and signaled Hermiod for transport back to the city, disappearing in flashes of brilliant light. The grim lines around John's eyes lingered in her mind's eye even after he vanished, and she closed her eyes for a moment before deciding she'd better take the long way back, exiting physically through the _Daedalus_ onto the pier where it was parked. The rest of the conversation they needed to have would go more smoothly without reactionary emotions clogging the issue.

The walk to her office did, thankfully, clear her head a little; the coffee she picked up in the cafeteria on the way helped, as well. By the time she reached the conference room and the four people already grouped around the table, she was feeling much better. She sat down at the head of the table, and addressed them as a group, the point she intended to make already clear in her mind.

"The personal nature of the connection these visitors have to Colonel Sheppard is not at issue here," she said firmly. "All of us have family and friends-- elsewhere, as distant as those connections may be in some cases," she continued, nodding solemnly to Ronon. "The fact remains, however, that none of them are _here_. The majority of the expedition's connections are back on Earth, and they lack the qualifications, the security clearance, and the motivation to even so much as know about the SGC, much less this city or our mission here. The fact that General O'Neill is willing to divert the _Daedalus_ to retrieve these particular people says a lot about how significant they must be to the program, and _that_ is why I object to the secrecy. The threats to our existence out here are significant enough without adding more complications from Earth that I wasn't made aware of."

John fidgeted a little, then sighed and spoke. "Look. General O'Neill was there when I found out about my nieces, and he showed me their files. I have no idea what their involvement with the government is, and I didn't want to know; there are more blacked-out passages in Buffy's file than there are in _mine_, and she and Dawn are both very wary of the military due to some kind of past encounter with the NID. General O'Neill wanted me to arrange for them to be tested for the A.T.A. gene, and I told him to hold off until I'd got to know them a little better; I didn't want to drag them into all of this until we'd cultivated some trust."

"I... suppose I can understand that," Elizabeth admitted, mentally adding General O'Neill's name to the list of those at fault for this snarl of a situation. "But what did Colonel Caldwell mean about your correspondence with them prompting this visit? That would seem to contradict what you've just told me."

John glanced sideways at Rodney, and Rodney's face fell. "Uh, that would be my fault," the scientist admitted. "She knew Colonel Sheppard had a friend who was a physicist, and several weeks back she passed along some questions from a friend of _hers_ about a supposedly theoretical wormhole problem. I answered them, via Sheppard-- and then I got to thinking about why she would have asked them in the first place. I sent an email to her myself--"

"--and she stopped writing altogether," John continued, a worried frown tugging at the corners of his mouth. "It was pretty obvious that something was going on; I finally got an email back from my other niece, Dawn, mentioning that Buffy was talking with an old friend 'stationed out in Colorado now on some top secret project or other'. It was clear that she was talking about the SGC; I sent a couple of emails back, and another to General O'Neill, but I haven't heard back from any of them yet. This visit is just as much a surprise to me as it is to you, but it has to be connected; something must have happened."

Rodney nodded at that. "And the timing is terrible. It's true that the _Aurora_ has been out there for thousands of years, but it was dormant the entire time. The signal from Atlantis woke it up, which means it may be visible to the Wraith as well as us. I just hope they don't get to it first."

Elizabeth sighed and rested her elbows on the table, rubbing her temples. "Unfortunately, it sounds like there's nothing we can do now but wait. I'll send a query to General O'Neill about this visit; I suggest you do the same, John. In the meantime, I suppose it'll have to be business as usual."

As much as business ever was usual in Atlantis, she thought wearily.

--


	10. Balancing Priorities

**Title**: Balancing Priorities 

**Author**: Jedi Buttercup

**Rating**: T

**Disclaimer**: The words are mine; the worlds are not. I claim nothing but the plot.

**Summary**: B:tVS, Atlantis. _They'd sent Riley to break the news to her gently_. 1900 words.

**Spoilers**: B:tVS post-"Chosen"; SG-A mid-season 2; reference to SG-1 9.9 "Prototype"

**Notes**: Tenth in the "Uncle John" series. The back story of a plot development revealed in the ninth ficlet.

* * *

If Riley Finn apologized to her one more time, Buffy was going to strangle him.

"Riley--" she interrupted him irritably, keeping her attention focused on the duffel bag she was trying to re-pack. "I know, okay, I know. You didn't mean for it to happen--"

"There was no way I could have known," Riley said again, remorsefully. "I was on a mission when the thing with Khalek-- when the International Oversight Committee got all stirred up over people with superhuman abilities. I'd never have recommended you get in contact with General O'Neill, if I had. And the General only knew the basics of what happened with the Initiative-- he didn't know there was anyone on the Committee who'd had anything to do with it."

"_I know_," Buffy repeated, gritting her teeth. "It's nobody's fault that I'm going to have to either leave civilization in a hurry or end up in somebody's scientific experiment just because some small-minded politician with authority to burn remembers me from Maggie Walsh's home videos."

She looked up then, taking in the presence of her ex-boyfriend in his uniform, more at home in the concrete box of a VIP room than she ever would be. She never should have emailed him in the first place, asking questions about what her uncle was up to; she never should have agreed to meet with General O'Neill when the wormhole-questions issue got brought up and it began to look like the Council would have to get involved whatever she did. All it had taken was one unfortunate meeting with a bureaucrat who recognized her on government turf, and suddenly uniforms of all kinds were either trying to wrap her up in cotton wool for protection or spirit her away to be studied.

She didn't _have_ to go with any of them, of course. The Watcher's Council could probably successfully derail all of the U.S. military's claims to her eventually, and make sure she would never be found when the goons came looking in the meantime. The problem with that idea, however, was that the cat was already out of the bag; the military had been reminded of the existence of "the hok'taur, Buffy Summers," and whatever calm heads had made sure that information stayed buried after the Initiative's collapse didn't seem to be in charge of things anymore. It would take a memory-alteration spell on the order of the one cast by the Order of Dagon to invent Dawn's backstory to make everyone that had seen the Initiative's information on Buffy conveniently forget about her exceptional abilities. At least they didn't seem to have connected it all to supernatural sources; that was a minor blessing. None of them had any clue about the existence of the mini-Slayers.

In the immediate future, however, the little they did know could make Buffy's life pretty difficult. One of the NID guys who'd tried to claim custody of her from General O'Neill had even been throwing around language from the Patriot Act; she'd been informed that using her "unnatural" abilities to resist or evade them could be construed as domestic terrorism, since it would fall under the category of illegal acts "dangerous to human life" which were intended to "influence the policy of a government by intimidation or coercion". It was pretty sketchy, admittedly, but since when had unscrupulous government groups with even the slightest hope of legal support for their actions bothered to wait for permission rather than forgiveness? Exhibit A: Maggie Walsh's creation of Adam.

And all the while, standing on the sidelines, there was General O'Neill. He made sure she knew about all of the qualified scientists working with her uncle at their "Atlantis" location who could arrange a continuing credits scheme for Buffy and her sister in place of their university studies. He talked about native populations who had never had someone of Buffy's talents to protect them from their local, non-human predators. He promised full access for any friends who were also willing to sign their non-disclosure agreements. He'd even agreed to do his best to bury the NID's inquires regarding "irregularities" in her sister's records. No strings, he said-- as long as they made a decision _soon_, before someone higher up the food chain interfered with O'Neill's handling of the situation.

It would solve everything, he'd said, if he could just shrug and tell the Committee people he'd already hired the Summers girls and sent them on, and what did they mean they'd sent him a memo?

If he hadn't been the one who'd started this dirty snowball rolling to begin with, Buffy might have actually trusted the guy. He was clever and quippy and kind and did a better dumb faГade that she did; it didn't hurt that he looked a little like MacGyver, either. As it was, though, she knew damn well he had his own agenda, and the fact that going along with it had more potentially fruitful future timelines associated with it than resistance didn't mean she had to like the situation.

Riley sighed. "I wish I could go with you," he said unhappily, "but Sam and Graham--"

Buffy sighed, then zipped the duffel up again and sat down next to it on the bed. "It's fine," she said. "Can you at least tell me something about this 'Atlantis' place, though? Everyone's been totally avoid-y on the subject so far, even Uncle John in his letters. And you know, this secret keeping is what got me in trouble in the first place. All I've been told so far is that the government has access to non-human advanced technology, and that once upon a time they accidentally caused what we had to deal with in Cleveland this year, which is why Dr. McKay got suspicious and started asking questions. I didn't even know there were demons that _used_ technology, or that the government was still trying to mess with demon stuff instead of just killing them."

She'd been promised full disclosure soon from General O'Neill, of course. And she'd picked up several clues that added up to a spectacular sum. But she wanted Riley's assessment of the situation before anyone got around to "officially" filling her in; she trusted her ability to read him far more than she trusted her ability to pry the full truth out of the crafty older officer before he wanted to give it.

Riley looked away, a sheepish expression on his face. "It's not-- it's not exactly demons. It's more--" He trailed off, jerking a thumb in the direction of the sky.

"What?" Buffy objected, raising her eyebrows as her theory was confirmed. Andrew would _explode_ if he ever found out. "Aliens? Little green men from outer space, _aliens_? I've signed the stupid confidentiality agreement and done the blood tests the General asked for, and so has Dawn. Why hasn't anyone else told us about this yet?"

"Little _gray_ men, actually," Riley said, with a half-teasing, half-guilty expression. "Look, it's just, the quicker you're out of here the better, and there hasn't really been time to do the official introductory lecture since you got here. They're sending you to the Alpha Site in a few hours to wait for your transport, and once it gets here it'll be a three week trip; there'll be plenty of time to explain everything on the way."

"A three week trip," Buffy repeated, narrowing her eyes as she calculated the logistics. "A three week trip-- but it's not to some third world country where they've never heard of malls, is it? We're talking about three weeks in _outer space_. We're going to end up on some other _planet_?"

In the back of her mind, the entire time this whirl-wind, half-assed plan had fallen into place she'd been holding on to two things: the promise of her uncle's presence at the other end, and the certainty that Willow could bail them out if things went utterly wrong. All throughout calling Dawn and asking her to pack for an emergency trip, sending instructions to Andrew about the apartment, asking Willow to deal with Dawn's and Buffy's enrollment at the university, and traveling out to Colorado with an annoyingly inquisitive Major named Paul Davis, she'd reminded herself that she'd been to other _dimensions_ before, and that nothing the government could throw at her could possibly measure up to that. Sooner or later Giles would negotiate a clear way out of the mess, and send Willow to bring Buffy and Dawn home. But if they were off-planet altogether, out of Willow's easy reach--

Well, there were contingency plans for that, but they'd require a little finesse beforehand. Good thing she'd pried the information out of Riley early. Otherwise this could have got messy. She'd hate to have to fight her way back out through all those levels of government offices and employees.

"Calm down," Riley said placatingly. "Please, Buffy. Trust me. You're going to love it once you're out there. They even have space vampires; when you get bored, there'll be plenty to keep you busy. And there are enough research and science labs in the city to keep Dawn occupied for ages. You've been saying you needed a break from Slayer General duties, right? Take my word for it; it's like nothing you ever dreamed of."

Buffy scowled at him. Now he sounded like a salesman; so much for prying the info out of him secretly. Wily old general! "They sent you in here to break the news to me gently, didn't they? Because I know you. So I wouldn't kill the messenger."

His expression was answer enough.

She sighed and shook her head. "Has anyone told Dawn yet?"

Riley opened his mouth to answer, but before he could say anything Buffy's sharp hearing picked up a high-pitched shriek that could only belong to her sister. "Get out!" she heard Dawn exclaiming, incredulously.

"Nevermind," Buffy said, ruefully.

Dawn quietened down enough that Buffy couldn't distinguish the rest of her conversation with whoever had been chosen to enlighten her about the nature of their destination. Probably that linguist guy, Daniel; Dawn had taken to him instantly, babbling about some kind of cross-cultural contamination theory thingy she'd found in some journal or other. Moments later, however, the heavy thud of hasty teenaged feet in tennis shoes approached Buffy's door.

"Ohmygosh canyoubelieveit?" Dawn gushed as she threw the door open.

Behind her, Dr. Jackson raised his eyebrows at Riley; Buffy saw Riley shrug in return, then slink out into the corridor as Dawn continued to exclaim.

"We're going to the real Atlantis! And it's in outer space!" Dawn squealed. "I wish we could take Willow with us! She's going to be so jealous!"

Buffy shook her head and sighed affectionately. At least her sister was taking it well; the trip would have been a nightmare if she'd reacted more like the Dawnie of five years ago. "You do realize it's going to be more than three weeks until we get there, right? Maybe even more than a month, depending on how long it takes our transport to come."

"I know!" Dawn said. "Dr. Jackson told me. We're going to travel on a real spaceship! With an alien! I'm going to miss Andrew, and my friends in Rome, but this is _so cool_."

"I'm glad you have your priorities straight," Buffy teased her, and smiled.

--


	11. A Miracle of Rare Device

**Title**: A Miracle of Rare Device

**Author**: Jedi Buttercup

**Rating**: FR13

**Disclaimer**: The words are mine; the worlds are not. I claim nothing but the plot.

**Summary**: B:tVS, Stargate: Atlantis. _Somehow, Buffy had expected something a little more exotic on her first visit to another world_. 1000 words.

**Spoilers**: B:tVS post-"Chosen"; no comics; SG-A mid-season 2

**Notes**: Next in the "Uncle John" series. Someone reminded me of this fic recently, and I felt inspired to move it forward a little. Remember, the story is AU for John's family; I began writing it while Season 2 was still airing, long before any other Sheppards were ever referenced in canon.

* * *

The trip to the Alpha Site had been almost a letdown after the revelation that she and her sister would be traveling to other planets and meeting aliens.

Sure, Buffy had known that life existed out there _somewhere_ after what had happened with the Queller, but actually going after it had never been on her agenda. After all, the youngest woman ever to go into space, as far as she'd heard, had been 32 years old and a multiple PhD. Buffy didn't have that kind of time, either in probable length of life or for schooling.

Really, she was lucky she'd even managed to finish her bachelor's degree before the NID found out about her familial connection to the Stargate program and upended her entire life. Apparently, Zombie-Mama Walsh had thought the 'scientific' explanation for her abilities was that she was something called a _hok'taur_, a genetically advanced human being... and in the NID's eyes, that status made her rightfully government property. General O'Neill had negotiated a way around the issue, but it had meant putting her last attempt at 'normal' finally behind her.

Buffy had decided she could deal with that, as long as it kept her family together and gave the Scoobies an in to yet another potentially apocalyptic government program. But somehow she'd expected something a little more exotic on her first visit to another world. Trees, hills, blue sky, even a single moon; visiting the SGC's primary offworld base was like taking a vacation to _Canada_. Eh, much?

The trip on the _Daedalus_- which, had anyone on the naming committee realized they were invoking the name of a guy mostly known for inventions that caused more harm than good?- had been even more boring, once she and Dawn got over the novelty of being able to look out the windows and see starlines. It was a flying metal box, and not all that big of one, crammed with people wearing uniforms and not much in the way of entertainment. Dawn spent a lot of time talking to the creepy little grey guy in charge of the engines, and Buffy spent much of _her_ time in the gym trying to burn off excess energy. In between her adventures in going nowhere, she looked into the files General O'Neill had sent along to familiarize her with her new home. And that was maybe the most boring part of all.

Despite all the classified details and otherworldly adventures, the files read like some bureaucrat's homework assignments. Between all the acronyms, sixty-four thousand dollar words, and carefully elliptical references to anything that had been deemed too sensitive to go on semipublic record, she was soon using them to put herself to sleep every night. Even her correspondence with **Uncle_JS** had been more informative than _that_, in terms of things she might actually need to know. Especially if her 'psychologist' title was supposed to be more than merely an excuse to get her off Earth.

They did tell her one thing, though, that she found very interesting indeed- and more than a little concerning. Uncle John had _not_ been supposed to be at all involved in the leadership of the city. He'd been taken along as little more than a light switch over the objections of the Marine colonel in command of the expedition's military, and gained his current position by being the ranking officer after that guy died. Reading between the lines, he might not even have been allowed that much if the colonel's official second, a fresh-faced Lieutenant named Ford, had had more time to get used to the responsibilities of command, and probably wouldn't have _kept_ it if Elizabeth Weir hadn't insisted on it.

He might still be the boss out there, but his position wasn't one hundred percent solid, no matter what impression O'Neill had given her. And the only reason he'd been there at all was because he'd won the genetic lottery, and they'd needed him more than he'd needed them. Plus, given that their genetic heritage seemed to be the reason he'd been encouraged to get back into contact with Buffy again, just in case she and Dawn had it too, even before the whole hok'taur issue came up...

Well. She wasn't ever going to be used as leverage against _any_ of her family, and that was final.

On the other hand. If O'Neill's rosy talk about getting to continue their educations by correspondence, and help people who could really use a hand that didn't have a gun in it, actually came true... it could be the most amazing thing that had happened to her and Dawnie since leaving Sunnydale.

By the time the spaceship finally reached Lantea, she was more than ready to have her fears settled one way or the other, and Dawn was hardly less impatient to transport to the surface. The younger Summers had picked up a reading comprehension in both the Ancient and Asgard languages already from hanging out with Hermiod, and was itching to get into the city's computers.

_Atlantis_, Buffy repeated to herself, testing the word for resonances of _home_. Despite everything, a surge of wonder stirred in her chest at the thought; she reached out to link her shaking hand with her sister's, and turned to see the same sparkle of amazement in Dawn's blue eyes.

The city itself looked sort of like a snowflake from orbit: a fractal shape floating on endless alien waves. A gift from the heavens. She hoped that appearance wasn't a lie.

"Ready, ladies?" Colonel Caldwell asked them, looking up from his command chair.

Buffy took a deep breath and nodded. Their luggage had already been sent with the cargo offload; all that remained was to beam down themselves. Given their VIP status, they would be sent directly to the Gateroom, where Elizabeth Weir and their uncle would be waiting.

"Ready or not, here we are," Dawn agreed.

The colonel gave the command, and the world dissolved in a wash of light.

-x-


End file.
